


sweet as can be

by captainafroelf



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Baking, Cooking, F/M, Fluff, it's not rated because i don't know How Sexy this is gonna get yet, so it got pretty sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainafroelf/pseuds/captainafroelf
Summary: bucky finds love in the supermarket and it gets cuter from there





	1. cheesy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzyTee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzyTee/gifts).

“I would say all’s fine here, Shuri, but I’m looking at a four dollar clove of ginger.” Bucky crossed his arms and gave the ginger serious consideration. “Yes, I’m in Whole Foods, I thought this is where people shopped.” 

Shuri tried not to laugh too hard in his ear. _“Rich people, white boy.”_

It was month five back in New York and it was going okay. Sam was busy being Captain America so Bucky had to handle groceries for the apartment they were sharing, it was easier than, well, living in separate apartments in New York. The city was a bit of a sensory overload, but also a downgrade from Wakanda. He only knew Sam even though everyone seemed to know him and public opinion ranged from ‘loose cannon’ to ‘sweet innocent victim who can do no wrong in the eyes of God’. Neither felt quite right. 

He was still placing himself firmly in the terrain, feeling out every possible facet of himself to construct an identity, it was hard work. Between counseling and occasional world saving, he was stretched thin. Being in normal places, like grocery stores, always gave him anxiety, and some impostor syndrome regarding his own recovery. 

Shuri checked in about once every two months to make sure he didn’t die. For some reason he thought having this kid in his ear would help him make decisions in the grocery store (He wasn’t sure _ why _ he thought this exactly, he’d spent enough time around Peter Parker to know that teenagers didn’t exactly have their heads on straight, just Shuri). 

_ “I thought you usually shopped with Sam,” _ said Shuri, usually thankful that these weren’t long conversations, but feeling unusually charitable with her own time. _ “Why are you by yourself?” _

“He’s in Panama.”

_ “Panama? What for?” _

“I don’t ask questions.” Which was the truth. Unless he was called in for a mission he liked to give his friend, Mr. America, space. Bucky put a few apples on the produce scale and tried calculating the total in his head. “Hmm. Nope.”

_ “Have you picked up anything at all?” _

“Uh, no.” Shuri sighed. “I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’d call Sam but he’s busy.” 

_ “Text him.” _

“I don’t text.” 

While Shuri lectured him on the importance of modern forms of communication, Bucky looked around a bit more, becoming further astounded by the prices with each passing moment. It was the old man in him, he could accept that. At least he didn’t feel alone in his disgust. There was a woman in the produce aisle with him, one he’d recognized. 

He’d seen her around the neighborhood sometimes, they must’ve been neighbors. She liked singing when she went about on her errands or her walks, he assumed she was a professional singer because she was quite good. Just as he kept to himself, she kept to herself. That would’ve been fine with him had she not been very pretty. 

On occasion, Bucky considered striking up a conversation with her, but that hadn’t bred the best results in the past. What they don’t tell you about returning to the world after being a prolific brainwashed assassin and having your face connected with murder for so many years is that it is impossible to reorient as a regular guy. It was as if he were fresh out of prison, he was determined to bring himself back into the world but it was way harder than he’d ever anticipated it would be. 

In his mind, strangers would never be an option for him, especially the pretty ones. It was best to keep a bit of an arm’s length. That didn’t mean he couldn’t look.

The only thing she’d picked up so far was a stalk of aloe vera and some coconut oil. Bucky averted his eyes whenever he found himself lingering on her. Who’d want to be stared at by The Winter Soldier, after all?

“Maybe I should head to a different store,” he told Shuri.

_ “Why have you lowered your voice? Are you okay?” _

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that his neighbor was only getting closer to him, and giving everything in the produce section serious consideration. “Yes, um, it’s just… Expensive.”

_ “It is a Whole Foods.” _ There was a pause, then Shuri gasped. _ “Is there someone there making you nervous?” _

Bucky scoffed. “I’m not…”

_ “What do they look like?” _

Bucky turned away from his neighbor, towards the lettuce. “She’s wearing glasses.”

_ “Uh oh!” _

“Shuri, I’m an adult.”

_ “Is she an adult?” _

“Yeah…”

_ “So go have some adult conversation, you need friends.” _

“Is that not what we are?”

_ “No. I’ll be in your ear.” _

“No, Shu--” 

“Rough time with the lettuce?” 

Startled by the sudden introduction of a third voice, Bucky whipped his head around. His neighbor was standing beside him, with a few apples in her cart. Fortunately for Bucky, there wasn’t even a hint of discomfort on her. Unfortunately for Bucky, she was even prettier up close, with warm brown skin, sweet brown eyes, and a mischievous smirk on her face. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This store is ridiculously expensive.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who you telling? I just came to get stuff for my hair, maybe a few fresh ingredients for a pie.” 

The next thing he said was stupid, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You make pie?”

“I do make pie.”

“That’s interesting.” He heard Shuri smack her forehead through the phone. “I’m Bucky.”

_ “Better.” _

“Jasmine. We’re neighbors. You live with Captain America, right?” Bucky nodded. 

It only just occurred to him in this moment that this was the longest he’d spoken to a woman who wasn’t carrying military grade weapons on her person in quite a long time, at least 70 years. People often told him that before World War II he was quite smooth, quite the flirt. He could have anyone he wanted, really. Steve told him that all the time and usually gave very impressive examples. That was the old Bucky. This was the new Bucky. The new Bucky didn’t like to talk, he really only did it when he had to, so he hadn’t had much practice in the art of conversation, and even less practice in the art of conversation with a woman he was attracted to in a casual setting where he couldn’t just make a few dry knife jokes. 

Baffled by his own rustiness, Bucky mentally filtered through a few options of what to say next. However, this proved itself to be rather time sensitive. Jasmine already felt awkward, Bucky’s resting brooding face wasn’t doing him any favors. 

“I’ll stop bothering you.”

“No, um, I’m sorry. I live with Captain America, Sam Wilson.” Shuri urged him to tell a joke. “He’s flown the coop for a few days.”

Shuri was going crazy on the other end, she almost wanted him to hang up on her but he’d be lost without her. _ “Seriously?” _

Jasmine chuckled. “You come up with that yourself?”

Shuri scoffed. _ “Obviously…” _

“It was bad, you don’t have to laugh.” 

“It wasn’t that bad.” She looked into his empty basket. “You’re having a very rough time right now.” He shrugged, at a loss for words again. “What are you looking for?”

Bucky sighed. “I’m trying to teach myself to cook. Sam says it’ll be good for me to learn how to make something with my hands. I figured I’d go fresh.”

“That’s smart if you aren’t broke.” 

“Right…” 

“Let’s start you off easy. I’m okay at cooking, baking is much more fun. Does mac and cheese sound good?”

“Is it in a box?” 

Jasmine patted him on the back. “I said easy, not boring.”

Jasmine turned and led him back into the store. The whole time, Shuri gave him lots of advice. _ Don’t ask her questions that are too personal, don’t share anything too personal with her. You just met. Be funny and open. Don’t shut down. Don’t be scared. Stop sweating. _

Shuri wanted to see her so Bucky turned his camera on for a moment, then she freaked out. “She’s Black?! Okay, I’m officially committed. I have to get back to the lab, don’t screw this up.” 

Then, he was alone with Jasmine. 

He just had to hold on and not let his fear of strangers, his fear of rejection, shake him._ Take a deep breath. Don’t ask her questions that are too personal, don’t share anything too personal with her. You just met. Be funny and open. Don’t shut down. Don’t be scared. Stop sweating. _Jasmine picked out some nice macaroni, begging him not to think too hard about the price tag for now. She was planning to take him to a different store for the larger expense: Cheese. 

“If this doesn’t work out you can order a pizza,” she told him. He blinked in surprise. “I told you, I’m better at baking.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What do you like to bake?”

“Anything. Cake.”

“Could you teach me to bake a cake? Sammothy’s birthday is coming up, I bet he’d be surprised.”

Jasmine thought about it, a small smile crossing her face. “That would imply me staying longer at your place.”

“Are you not eating with me? I assumed you would be.” She blinked. “Is it… weird to assume you would be?”

She smiled wider. “Bucky, I wasn’t going to let you make this on your own. If you blow up the neighborhood, it’s still my neighborhood.”

Unbeknownst to him, his cheeks flushed pink. Oh no, Jasmine was going to be in his apartment. The apartment that only he and Sam had seen since they moved in. She would see it, even worse she would see his side of it. _ Don’t be scared. Stop sweating. _

“That’s smart.” _ Why didn’t you clean up right after Sam left like he fucking asked you to? _ “I should warn you, my place isn’t in the best shape. I keep it clean most of the time but I’m in recovery so, sometimes I slip up.” 

She dismissed his apology. “I don’t care, I promise.” She gasped with a realization. “We should get bread… Ooh, and chicken.”

Bucky’s stomach rumbled and his mouth watered at the thought of all this goodness. “This is a full meal, I’m under the impression you think I don’t eat.”

“Au contraire, I’m only under the impression that you’re a big man.” 

* * *

They finished shopping and headed back to Bucky’s place. Jasmine was freaking him out, not in a bad way, she just wasn’t what he was used to. This level of hospitality was normal when he was recovering in Wakanda, but it was completely alien to him in New York. She jumped right into wanting to know him, she didn’t prod, she wasn’t afraid. He was starting to wonder if she knew who he was at all beyond the fact that he lived with Captain America. She certainly knew Sam, but who didn’t?

As Jasmine set up in the kitchen, he started cleaning up the living room. Sure, she’d already seen it and been warned, but he wasn’t proud. The problem was, cleaning gave him a moment to overthink. His mind raced through the possibilities, like, maybe she was one of Sam’s friends. Sam had a lot of friends, surely. Especially therapist friends and friends from the army and friends from the neighborhood. Jasmine easily could’ve been one of Sam’s friends, acting on a request from him to play babysitter while he was on a big mission. Or, maybe, Fury sent her. He was aware that he was being monitored, he’d seen agents around, they just never interacted with him. Jasmine was fully interacting with him, she went shopping with him, she came into his home to help him cook! What civilian would do that if they knew who he was?

_ Paranoia’s going to lock you away from everyone _ . He thought to himself. _ Maybe she’s just nice _. 

“You wear shoes inside?” questioned Jasmine.

Bucky looked down at his feet. “No, Sam would kill me.”

She giggled. “Are you distracted?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I’m not used to guests.”

“I can see that.” She put her hand on her hip. “Bucky, I know who you are, I’m not dumb. I won’t run screaming from the apartment cause you blinked fast. Wash your hands.” 

“Oh…” Bucky looked down. _ See, just nice _. “Oh! Huh… Oh… Thank you, I really appreciate this.”

“Man, don’t thank me, thank my mom because she taught me how to cook.” 

Bucky smiled. “The other neighbors are--”

“Afraid of you? Yeah, they’re afraid of everything. You, me, and the Black families who haven’t been priced out of the neighborhood yet.”

“Shit.”

“Shit is right.” She smiled up at him. “It’s nice having Avengers in the neighborhood, though. Y’all really do make people feel safer. I keep trying to tell folks you’re not neighborhood watch.”

Feeling a bit more comfortable, maybe even confident, Bucky leaned on the counter and waited for her instructions as she unpacked the last of the groceries. “We’re keeping an eye out.”

“Oh really? Thank you for your service.” 

“You’re very welcome,” he grinned. “If I’m being honest, I was nervous moving into an actual neighborhood. I’m stable enough but we all slip, right?”

Jasmine sighed and handed him a few blocks of cheese to cut. “Slip? Yeah. Completely backslide? Rarely, if ever. If it makes you feel better, I feel very safe with you.”

“Really?”

She handed him a knife and looked him in the eyes. “Really.” 

Bucky took the knife, completely understanding the gesture beyond it’s utility. Jasmine was showing him how safe she felt, she knew telling him would never be enough. To hand him a knife, when it was common knowledge that he’d killed with knives, when they were the only two people in the house, meant so much to him. 

He cut off a corner of cheese and grinned. “We’re gonna get along just fine, Jasmine.” 

“Call me Jazz.” 

“_ Jazz _. I really like jazz, I love saxophones.”

She sucked her teeth. “You can cut cheese without being cheesy, Bucky.” 

“Was that not funny?”

“No, Bucky.” 

They finished making dinner, and Bucky questioned her earlier claim of only being okay at cooking, but she swore he was an easy judge considering his tongue was used to boiled potatoes. It was ridiculously nice to sit at a dinner table and talk to someone who didn’t have spider powers or build rockets for fun. Especially as she recounted all of her cooking memories, and told him the best places to get baked goods around the city whenever he didn’t feel like making something himself. There was something so wonderful about Jazz, something so real and honest and carefree. So it was a no brainer when she asked if he still wanted her to stay to bake a cake with him. 

“You would pick the one cake I’ve never made.”

Bucky laughed. “I’m sorry, I just remembered marble cake is Sam’s favorite. Of course, he’s not eating this one, we are.”

“Exactly, Bucky! Now it’s an adventure for both of us.” 

He watched her scroll past the exposition on[ a recipe](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/7891/marble-cake-i/) and he got an idea. “Have you made red velvet cake before?”

“Mhm.”

“Cheesecake?”

“Yes! Why?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never made them before…”

She put a hand on her hip. “You know, you could just ask me to come back.”

“Would you?” 

“Anytime.” She patted his pink cheek. “You’re cute when you blush.” 

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me what temperature to preheat the oven to.”

“350, not a notch above or below. Baking is a science.” 

He set the oven and she got out the bowls and found Sam’s mixer with his name labelled on it. “Good. I love science.” Jasmine pointed to the label. “He won’t mind when he sees I’ve made a friend.”


	2. salt, fat, acid, heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so goddamn long

Bucky and Jazz were fast friends. Their relationship gave Bucky an ease he wasn’t accustomed to. He was allowed to be himself. More importantly, he was allowed to figure out who that was beyond the Avengers and his past. Jasmine was completely disconnected from all of that, and happily so. She didn’t want to know about his missions or his abilities, unless they helped him carry groceries. They only talked about the news, food, music, hair, and anything else in between. 

“That’s incredible, Barnes,” she told him, wiping the sweat from her brow before digging for her house keys. Bucky was carrying five bags on one arm, barely breaking a sweat, even after the twenty minute walk. Long tasks were easier done when he was in a good mood, he’d found. “If being a superhero doesn’t work out, you can capitalize on your bag carrying powers.”

“Oh ha ha,” Bucky dryly replied. Jazz unlocked the door and let him go in first. “If singing doesn’t work out, you should try comedy.”

“Oh ha ha HA.” 

They both breathed a little easier in the air conditioning, but the walk home was brutal. The dead of summer was so hot it felt like it could’ve melted off his arm had it tried hard enough, and it was trash day so the walk felt like a voyage through a giant junkyard fire. Jasmine was careful not to touch his arm just yet, it usually cooled itself down but she’d made that mistake the week before and ended up with a bit of her index fingerprint missing. 

After stepping out of their shoes, they went right to their usual routine. Bucky knew the apartment like the back of his hand. 

“Beef stir fry is easy,” said Jasmine. 

“So you keep telling me.” Bucky started unpacking the groceries. He silently judged Jasmine for buying cookie dough she had no intention of baking as he put it in the fridge next to the eggs. “We’ll see when we get there.”

When the groceries were put away, Jasmine grabbed an apron off a hook and shoved it in his direction. “Don’t forget to wash your hands.”

“You say that like I ever forget. You know these hands are clean.” 

He took the apron and tied it on, knowing it was the Princess Tiana apron he'd put on without thinking once and then was forced to wear every time they were in the kitchen because it made him look like a single dad who was trying too hard and Jazz was just tickled by that.

“I know you’re just making me wear this because you think it’s funny.”

“I’m making you wear it because I _ know _ it’s funny, Bucky.”

She walked away from him and he smiled. "You know, Jazz, I've never asked you this but where did you get a Princess Tiana apron?"

"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you. Are you buying a gift for one of Sam's nieces?"

"No, I'm just curious about your past life, is all." He chuckled. "Did you kill Mickey? Is that why you had to run away?"

How sickening was it that he made her laugh so easily and at something so gently stupid? "I miss when you were too nervous to talk to me and didn't tell jokes."

Bucky scoffed as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. "When was this?"

"When we first met."

“Ah, when I saw you from afar and you--”

“Save it.”

Laughter was always abundant in that kitchen. Laughter, and the lingering sense of something else behind it. He liked Jasmine, but not in the same way that he liked Sam or Steve or Sharon. Definitely not in the same way that he liked Shuri. He liked the sound of Jazz’s voice when she spoke and especially when she sang. He liked her smile and her laugh. He liked how she was very much herself and unapologetic. He liked that she was so fucking gorgeous and kind and open. No, this wasn’t like his other friends, it was far scarier, harder to grapple with, harder to explain. 

At first, he thought he was just idealizing her. Sam warned him that he might do that as he got used to making friends, and he was careful about it… But he knew that wasn’t what this was.

And so did Shuri. 

The night before, he'd given Shuri an update. At this point, he’d known Jazz for two months and they’d hung out pretty frequently. Shuri was sure everything could work out for Bucky if he stopped being so goddamn weird and closed off, but it was so hard. 

_ “Just tell her how you feel!” _ Shuri exclaimed. _ “You’ve become so close this quickly, I can’t believe it’s taking you this long.” _

“We’ve still just met, Shuri, and I like her… But I’m not sure either of us would be ready for that.”

Shuri groaned. _ “What is ready to you? When will it happen?” _

“I should wait until she expresses interest in me.”

_ “Bast give me strength, white boys are so stupid… Cooking with you a few times a week for two months isn’t her expressing interest?” _

“Hm, I don’t think so.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t want to fuck this up by forcing something that isn’t there. I’ve only just gained this friend, I wouldn’t do anything to risk it.”

_ “But do you know if there isn’t something there or are you afraid that something is actually there and not just in your head?” _ Bucky looked lost. _ “I think you’ve asked yourself if this is real enough times to know that it probably is.” _

And Bucky had asked. He'd asked every time her eyes met his if this was real, if she was looking at him with the same fondness, the same gratefulness. The conclusion never seemed to come, it was like begging a mirror for answers that mirrors couldn’t provide, and Bucky never did deal well with confusion. 

So there they were, in Jazz’s kitchen again, like they had been on so many Fridays. They'd graduated from baking to cooking. It took a bit of work for the both of them to get things right, but they made a good team. Bucky was ridiculously exact with instructions and measurements. To the point that he was annoying about it.

“Your pinch is different from my pinch,” he argued, adding a pinch of pepper to the pan. “Mine is bigger.”

Jasmine snorted. “You said that to anybody else lately?”

“Stop.” 

The vegetables were just starting to brown and soften. Everything smelled delicious. Not bad for the first try. So much so that they were a little bit suspicious of it. “Maybe less pepper might be better this time, how would I know?”

“Who are you?” 

Jazz sucked her teeth. “I didn’t mean it, I just hate when you’re right sometimes.”

“It’s not usually me, I like to enjoy those moments.” 

They added water to the pan and cooked the vegetables until it evaporated. When the pan was too hot or too heavy for Jasmine, they switched places. Bucky tapped her out as if they were a wrestling duo or a well-oiled machine. Then Bucky poured the vegetables out onto a plate while Jasmine readied the pan to cook the steak. 

“I have to say, Barnes, you’re a quick learner.” 

“You’re too kind. The student’s only as good as the teacher.”

Jasmine giggled. “And other bumper stickers from Bucky Barnes.”

Clearing his throat, Bucky slid past Jasmine to grab the pepper grinder. His hand brushed her waist and he held it there, even as he crossed back over. It didn’t go unnoticed, no matter how much he wished it had. 

He waited for her to prepare the pan. “This is going far quicker than I thought it would…”

“The sooner we can eat.”

“And the sooner I can be out of your hair, right?”

She looked up at him and he was just hoping she couldn’t see his eyes pleading for her to want him to stay as long as he wanted to, as long as he needed to. 

“Well, I’m not tired of you yet, let's give it a few hours. We could watch a movie.” 

“That would be nice.” He’d rarely stayed past dinner. The one time he did was during an awful storm, when Jasmine insisted he stay and not get pneumonia out there in the great big world like a bionic stray cat. 

They finished cooking. The stir fry looked exactly as it did on the recipe blog, excluding the professional lighting and table setting. They sat at Jasmine’s tiny dining room table across from each other with the stir fry between them. Bucky nudged it towards her so that she could taste it first. Not because he was afraid, he just wanted her to eat first, as if she were an honored guest in her own home. Eventually she did serve herself, and taste the stir fry they’d put so much love and effort into, and it was delicious. 

Jasmine’s eyes rolled back and she hummed happily. “Bucky!”

“Oh, I can’t wait.” He scooped some stir fry into his bowl and tasted it. His eyes rolled back, too. It was so good that he nearly cried. “Wow…”

From that point on they ate in silence. Only pausing to moan and giggle at each other’s joy in the face of good food. The stir fry was meant to last to the end of the week at the very least, but it barely lasted two hours before there was nothing left on the table besides dishes to clean. 

They washed the dishes together and sat down in front of the tv to watch a movie, Jasmine’s choice. Bucky sat with space between the two of them, not enough for her to notice, but enough for him to feel comfortable about it. The movie was good, but he kept finding himself watching her instead, looking at her, wondering what was going through her head. 

_ I wonder what she likes most about this movie, or movies in general. Should I put my arm around her? _ He looked at his metal hand and shook his head. _ No, don’t do that. That would be stupid. Just talk to her. _

“Are you okay?” She was looking at him. He had his eyebrows fixed at the center of his face. “Thinking hard about something?”

Bucky sighed and relaxed his face. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“Is it superhero nonsense?”

He shook his head. “I think I’d understand that a little bit more.”

“Sounds like an emotional problem.” Bucky looked away. “Oh it is? Is it a heart problem?”

Bucky waved it away. “Jasmine, you really don’t wanna know.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Alright then. You want dessert? I think I have enough to make chocolate chip cookies. If not, we can always make sugar cookies.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“You sure it’s nothing?” 

“No, it’s something, just not something you should worry about.” 

While they baked, they switched the tv from a movie to a show they could watch more casually. Bucky began to retreat inward. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jasmine, Jasmine, Jasmine. He didn’t know how to address it or if he even should have, and Shuri’s voice was the loudest one in his head telling him that he needed to, that it would be good for him. But he couldn’t decide if he would be good for Jasmine. Did he deserve Jasmine? Did he deserve anything?

Jasmine snapped in front of his eyes. He blinked himself back into the moment. “Bucky. Hand me the butter.”

“Sorry.”

“Get your head in the game or I’m kicking you out of the kitchen.”

He handed her the stick of butter. “I’m sorry, I’m just distracted.”

“I know, are you sure it’s nothing?”

Bucky tried summoning the courage he always had on the field. He tried to imagine that Sam and Shuri were both listening to him somehow, guiding his brain to the exact place it needed to be at the right time. He took a deep breath. 

“Jazz, I really like you.”

She grinned. “I know, Bucky.”

Bucky blinked, surprised. “I mean, I really like you. Not in a platonic, friendly way, Jasmine. I have feelings for you. I just don’t know what to do with them, I’m not really used to them… And I’m not great at talking sometimes about feelings I have no description f--”

Jasmine stood on her toes and kissed him, stealing his breath from his lungs. “Bucky, I know. Could you pass me sugar?”

He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed. “How long have you known?”

“A while. Since we met, sorta. I was waiting for you to say something, but I knew you wouldn’t, and I was fine with that too, no matter how much I wanted you.” 

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I wanted you to be ready for me.” 

Bucky felt like he’d just reached the end of a roller-coaster, but he so desperately wanted to ride again. “Wow, that’s… Wow…” 

“Don’t get distracted, we have cookies to bake.”

Bucky blushed. “Right.”

And so they baked, and they had all the same conversations they usually had. Nothing changed except that Bucky no longer felt trapped by his own anxiety. He was breathing free again with Jasmine, and that was the way it was meant to be. 

It was no surprise then, when the cookies were in the oven, that he found himself looking up at her as she took off her shirt and leaned down to kiss him. His hands wandered the new discoveries of her bare brown skin and took note of all the places he’d kiss the next time they did this, and there would be a next time.

His hands were happy to cup her breasts, to hold his hands on her hips as she rolled herself on him and moaned in his ear. “Bucky, please…”

“I’m ready for you, sweetheart.” 

They quickly worked off their pants and their underwear, meeting again in the middle and Bucky kissed every part of her neck and shoulders. They moved together, just as they did in the kitchen, as a team. Bucky kept his eyes on hers the whole time, lifting himself as deep as he could, gauging her reaction from her moans. He held his hands at her waist and whispered all sorts of sweet things about how beautiful and sweet she was, how good she was to him. 

“Bucky, please,” she moaned. At this rate, with all of their built-up tension, neither of them would last long, which was fine, the oven timer was winding down behind them, but the cookies were a distant memory on someone else’s property as far as they were concerned. 

Bucky held her thighs and flipped her on her back, going even deeper, gripping the arm of the couch. Letting his head fall into the crook of her neck, they finished together, slowing down. They moaned out at the same time and tried to catch their breath. Then, it was silent, but it was a happy silence.

_Beep-beep-beep! _

Bucky raised his head to look at the oven timer and he laughed. “That worked out perfectly.” 

Jazz patted his chest. “Go get ‘em, champ.” 

He pulled the tray of cookies out of the oven and let them cool, returning back to the couch to hold Jasmine for a while. 

In the morning, after he went home, Bucky sent Shuri a kind thank you note for believing in him. She replied, “_ Oh, I didn’t, but I’m glad to see it worked out for you. You deserve happiness. _”

* * *

Sam couldn’t get Bucky out of the kitchen now, as much as he wanted to, and he so wanted to. The holidays meant the kitchen of their apartment was busy but this year it also meant being micromanaged by a nonagenarian who took a couple cooking and baking lessons from his girlfriend and then suddenly thought he was Gordon Ramsay.

“Turkey’s a little dry.”

“Bucky, shut up.” 

Bucky grinned. “Jasmine’s turkey is never dry.”

Jazz stepped between them and grabbed a cut of Sam’s turkey. “Hey, hey, play nice.” She took a bite and gave it a minute. “It is not dry, Bucky.” 

“Ha!” Sam exclaimed. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and walked away with a second piece. “Whatever. The real focus is my pie anyway.” 

Jasmine checked on the aforementioned pie, which was baking happily in the oven. “I could’ve sworn y’all said you don’t do thanksgiving.” 

They didn’t, except that they did. But only this once, and not for any reason other than to have Jasmine over for the entire day and make the holiday less lonely. She was happy to oblige them. “We don’t, we just like to eat.” 

“And we like spending time with family.” 

Sam grinned at Bucky over Jasmine’s head, and Bucky smiled back. “Yeah, we do. We really, really do. You getting soft on me, Wilson?”

“I didn’t bring my girlfriend to Thanksgiving.” 


End file.
